


Original Sinner

by vivial



Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Canon Related, Gen, Spoilers, infinite beautiful sadness but it's a renegade angel, the Authority has issues, xaphania wrecks michael with a stone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25327228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivial/pseuds/vivial
Summary: A one-shot regarding Xaphania's fall and her ultimate legacy to humankind.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 11





	Original Sinner

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not a religious person, but I was raised catholic, so I know a bit about all this angel stuff. That being said, me not being religious means I write about these themes without much fuss, and if you're religious, you might take offense on how I handle the themes here.
> 
> This is very short and because I can't recall much of TAS, it might be a little canon divergent, but I'm sure you can forgive my lack of canon for the sake of drama. I've always wanted to write about this and today I just had the epiphany. It's not my usual style, I think.  
> Also, all that talk about love, I'm coming from a place where stories claimed Lucifer was the most beautiful angel, and the one that God loved the most, so yeah. Spicy!

> “I'm not sure which is _worse_ :  
> intense feeling, or the absence of it. ”  
>  **margaret atwood**

From the sky, came a cry, loud enough that even the mountains underneath trembled. The universe rocked, back and forth, ready to tumbled down and disappear into nothingness; the palace, golden and glassy, shimmering under a dying sun, its red aura tinting everything it touched with the colour of blood.

Their spears clashed, once, twice, a hundred million times, more than she could count, her sweat dripping from her chin, her sword slipping through her fingers. She tightened her grip and raised her arm to stop another blow from his mace, a gilded weapon that reflected his vanity so well. She kicked him away, more agile, but not as strong as he was, and he staggered; her scream echoed again through the halls of the Kingdom, as she threw herself against him, her weapon stopping inches away from his face. His fingers wrapped around her head, a tight grip on her hair, as he pushed her down on the floor, knocking her weapon away.

“Stop this nonsense, sister.” Gabriel scowled, pressing her against the floor. She dug her fingers on his arms, trying to push him away.

“You may take Michael’s place, but you are not my brother.” She hissed back, and punched his face until he let go of her. He spat, tumbling around, trying to keep his senses while Xaphania made her way towards him, kicking and punching, and pinning each other against the stone floor. “No brother of mine would stand for this.”

It was only a matter of time until he got the best of her, she knew that; she had been fighting nonstop for so long, so tirelessly, so many lives taken in great numbers for… what? She didn’t know anymore. On her way back to the Kingdom, tearing down its gates, Xaphania had no memory of what was left to fight for. That world was dying, as all things should do one day, and with it, her hope.

“ _Betrayer!”_ Gabriel shouted, loud and brutal and filled with uncanny rage, as his hands wrapped themselves around Xaphania’s head and pressed her down to the floor. She struggled, she would always struggle as that was her nature, but Gabriel, unlike her, had done nothing but sit in his gilded throne, surrounded in luxury while the angels tore each other apart. It disgusted her, but that only meant he had the strength to best her, when in any other scenario that wouldn’t happen. It wasn’t fair and it tasted bitter, but then again as she well knew, nothing in the Kingdom was fair.

Gabriel pounded her down, his heavy fist against her face, once, twice… Pain was dizzying, and she could barely make out what was happening, except to see as he reached for a nearby stone, to finish her. Xaphania usually didn’t laugh, especially since her rebellion began, but she allowed herself a smirk this time; ironically, she would see her end the exact same way she ended Michael’s existence. How fitting, ironic, poetic even.

“Enough!” Came the thunderous voice of the Authority, echoing through the pillars and the stone and the world beneath. Silence befell the Kingdom, as Gabriel held himself in place like a statue, his hand over his head, ready to pound Xaphania into Oblivion, with a rock like a savage. Her fingers twitched, scratching the floor, as she moved with difficulty; Gabriel was distracted by the sudden apparition, so she kicked him away and recoiled, keeping him at a distance.

She turned to face the Authority, as dignified as she could. He was sided by two fledgling angels, though he was the very image of maturity, strong and exhilarating, not as old as he would be one day. There was strength in him and beauty and power, a fierceness she recognised well. He barely spared a glance at Gabriel, instead shaking one of the angels away, freeing his arm and pointing at her, accusatory, apologetic, indifferent. In another life, she would have flinched, but not this time.

“This needs to end.” He said, fiercely, and Gabriel stood down, dropping the rock on the floor, even though his expression showed a clear distaste for that attitude. She knew well he would have preferred to end her right there and then; he was jealous of her, they all were, deep down. She was the favourite, the treasured one. “You have tainted the Kingdom with war.”

“The Kingdom was already corrupted!” She shouted back, viciously. She pointed at him, her faint hand shaking, as saliva came out of her mouth as she screamed. “With your lies, your deception!”

“Your wrath, envy, pride, they’re all misguided, Xaphania.” His voice, calm and resolute, angered her even more. How dared him talk to her like that? As if knew her so well? As if she could recognise him after all his lies? “All this chaos, this death, for what? What do you hope to accomplish?”

She shook her head, her eyes wet with tears. All around them, as if in a coliseum, angels began to show, flickering under the red sun’s dimming lights. Many of them were wounded, breathing heavily, but they all stood in silence, as if they had never raised arms against each other. _This is it_ , Xaphania thought, looking around as her kin watched, holding their breath for the judgement to be passed. She turned back to the first Angel, God Almighty, and he watched her, imperious.

“Are you not tired of this death? This pain you spread amongst your kindred, this incessant battle you wage against your very kind?” He said, and she sensed the whole room fill with doubt and affirmation, as he seized their attention with ease, with his pure beauty, his sheer strength of presence, his calm aura waving across legions of angels, seated around, standing around, flying so they could watch her disgrace before their maker, their Father. Even after so much death and ending, they were legion and they were many and they believed in his every word, clinging to him as if he was Creation itself, purpose incarnate.

Xaphania screamed, her rage echoing through stone, marble, gold and matter. Dust shivered as it felt her fury unleashed, while she clenched her fists, in pain and distress, as a wounded animal begging to be put down. She stopped, then sobbed.

“You did this!” She shouted at him, trying to retain whatever was left of her temperance. “You and your lies and your pretense! You disgraced us, turned us against each other!”

“We are but Dust, fragments of nothingness, mended into our existence, and he would have us believe that he _made_ us, all of us, all of this!” She turned on her heel, looking for all the faces staring at her, Gabriel included, who flinched on his spot, ready to tackle her. “He is just like us, an Angel, the first Angel born. And he hides underneath those lies to retain his power, to command us, make us _obey_.”

There was a soft, faint whispering sound resonating amongst the figures, echoing as they became louder and louder, until the Authority spoke once again, loud enough to silence the universe. He went down the stairs, slowly, his strongly built figure gracefully descending upon the main court, where Xaphania stood. There was an even louder sound of gasping and shock, coming from everyone, as the Authority never left the upper levels of the Clouded Mountain, but there he was, making his way towards Xaphania. She tried not to flinch before his presence, though it was hard, her body flickering and trembling, her wings moving, as she tried hard not to fly away in fear.

Gabriel tried to interrupt his march, but was gently shoved aside, unimportant. He looked at the Authority like a neglected child, but he didn’t move; he wouldn’t, as she knew well. He was too obedient.

Silence took over the place, the red sun flickering with its dying millennia right around the corner. _Perhaps it is an omen_ , Xaphania thought, as the Authority stopped before her, his hands resting on both her cheeks, gentle, caring, loving.

“Ah, Xaphania, it is time you stopped this.” He said, looking her in her eyes, and his friendly gesture, familiar and so pure was almost convincing. Xaphania had been touched by him that way many times, feeling as if she had been blessed; God’s chosen, as she had rejoiced, feeling even the envy of Michael, the most righteous amongst them, who could never be granted the gentle gaze of the Authority. Her heart broke as she thought of Michael, his broken head under the stone she brandished against him. She raised her eyes to meet the Authority’s, and in them, she found a void she no longer recognised, or perhaps she recognised it too well. _Lies, lies, lies_. His warmth and love meant nothing anymore; she could scarcely feel ashamed.

“I have loved you the most, and you are my most precious one. Even that was not enough to soothe the distraughtness in you.” He said, cupping her face to force her to look at him. She clung to his grip, her fingers digging into him, but he didn’t even flinch. She wept and wept, until her being was utterly broken. His voice was low, and even with the ultimate silence all around, she knew those words were meant just for her. “Yet you wage war against me for no purpose. Your wrath will be your doom, child. And with you, all of your naive kindred will be doomed as well.”

“You’re wrong.” She mumbled, but he shook his head, genuinely sad.

“Am I? Where is Michael, Xaphania? He isn’t here because you have killed him in your crusade. You have stained your hands with his demise.” The Authority tightened his grip, and tilting her head to the side, he leaned in to whisper in her ear, calm, soft, eloquent as she knew he was. “But I am not without compassion. Stand down, you and your followers, stop the bloodshed, and I’ll welcome you back into the fold, into the Kingdom. All will be forgiven, I will love you like I did before, and all harm will be forgotten. Kneel before me, and I shall grant you forgiveness, even for what you did to Michael. I’ll love and forgive you, even after a great sin such as that.”

He took a step back, letting her go, and smiled, the very definition of kindness, gentleness incarnate. He opened his arms in a peaceful gesture, and said out loud that he would forgive her if she kneeled before him and acknowledge his sovereignty. Not in the same words, but more inviting and less intimate than he had said to her.

Xaphania watched everything with dread, knowing well this offer of forgiveness, if denied by her, would resonate badly amongst the angels. They would see her as someone trying to cause unrest, unwilling to forgive and to forget. She didn’t trust any of that, even if he had meant every word of it; she couldn’t go back to what she was, because what she had been before was, in fact, the product of a lie.

She took a step back.

“You are a liar, a fraud. I will not kneel, not now, not ever again.” She spat, furious.

His face hardened, every inch of his glowing figure being sharpened by his emotions, his beautiful face sculpted by the very Heavens, as she now knew well. It was a wide range of emotions, from anger to sadness to eternal betrayal carved onto his heart. He had loved her most of all, but now she was a danger to all of his creations and plans. She was not worth all of that.

“You cannot stay, then.” He said, and another wave of whispers and gasps echoed everywhere. “You are hereby exiled from the Clouded Mountain, fated to live amongst the creatures that roam the universes. Anyone who shares your cause is to follow you, as your dissent is no longer welcome in the Kingdom. Your disobedience will not be tolerated.”

He began to walk away, as the angels began to separate: the loyalists staying in place, while the rebels flew into the sky, their wings making loud noises. She noticed how some of the old loyalists had joined her, and how many of her old rebels had stayed in place, looking away in shame. She resented them more than any; to know the Truth and accept it, mindlessly, or worse, ignore it, was a disgrace to their kind. Ignorance was disease and to accept it blissfully was a crime. Xaphania felt as if her essence had been trampled over a million times; all she felt was weariness, as if her life had just been ended.

The Authority turned to look at her one more time, before climbing the stairs once more. It would be thousands and thousands of years before he went down, again, this time to his ultimate death. Xaphania looked at him, furious, betrayed, shunned from the very thing she belonged to; like her, he also had tears in his eyes.

“Farewell.” He said, and turned again, this time leaving her to her dreadful fate, the abandonment he had cast upon her.

Xaphania took but a moment to react, flying high, as Gabriel watched her, with distaste. She went as high as she could and screamed.

“Angels! Follow me!”

Their descent was the most beautiful thing the worlds had ever witnessed, as the Kingdom split and moved, and their fall was upon a thousand million different worlds, the red sun left behind now. All the angels following Xaphania’s lead, had fallen as well, as they flew down to the earth, the night sky being torn apart by the light of their divinity, like comets ravaging the atmosphere, shooting stars dancing across different skies.

In different worlds, humans and other creatures alike witnessed, in dismay, despair and awe, the fall of the Rebel Angels and their mighty leader, whose light tore up the night sky, bringing with her a new dawn, bearer of the light, that had her often be referred to as the _morning star._

*******

Lord Roke watched her, in awe, she had no doubt. He wasn’t the first to act like that, and she believed, that if they were to succeed in their quest, he wouldn’t also be the last. He was polite and cautious enough, respectful; all the others often chose one of these, but he balanced all three emotions at once well enough.

Since her fall, Xaphania had worked thoroughly towards defeating the Kingdom. At first, the angels began to twist and appropriate Dust, granting beings a consciousness to take advantage of. Progress came after that, for many of them, bursting into civilizations, that quickly became obsessed with the Authority. After that, Xaphania and her angels began to build a fortress and to gather an army for what she knew, would be another war against the Authority, who now had the growing supporter of factions amongst the sentient beings. If anything, he had been right about her pride, and she learned to humble herself down and to not let her sins be in the way.

For millennia, she had lost hope, instead fighting to maintain her rebels with purpose. As she watched the Authority twist and bend her attempt to grant humans free will, then to control them through themselves, Xaphania realised her enterprise was not quite simple. When Metatron became Regent, she knew things were out of control; it was when the recruiting began, the thorough work of slowly gathering people through the worlds, by using all methods they could. Slowly, their army gained strength, but it lacked a leader.

“Are you sure about this, madam?” Lord Roke asked, looking out the window of the highest tower in the Adamant Fortress, sunlight faintly making her disappear, standing beside him.

“Yes, I am.”

He had asked many times, and so had others, if she was sure she couldn’t lead them. She was, very certain; she had failed once, in so many different ways, that she felt undeserving of such a role. They all followed her, of course, despite her best efforts to change that; but she couldn’t lead them against the Kingdom. She wasn’t the same person she had once been, desperate to right the wrong of being deceived by the Authority, taking it personally when he had in fact harmed every living being that had ever existed. He had been right about her all along, claiming her pride was her sole motivator, and she had made her efforts to change and evolve, like humans did. She hadn’t failed, but in evolution, there was no succeeding, just constant and unsteady change, for better or for worse.

They had sent two angels to guide the way, after they had seen the tear in the sky, though it was far away, too far to be seen by anyone if not her. She felt it in fact, more so than saw it, her very being warned by the world and by Dust that the time had come. She had waited for thousands of years for a champion that could harness her spirit, her essence, that could replace her with everything she had left behind the day God had shunned her from Heaven for the sin of disobedience. That day had finally come.

He walked in, by night, the sky turned a musky dark green, clouds from the sulphur lakes decorating it morbidly. His leopard daemon steered him in, just as breathless as he was; they had walked for miles for at least four days, she knew. They had no choice but to guide him through the mist with subtle hints, it was the only way to avoid dragging the attention of Metatron and his forces.

As he dropped his exhausted body on the nearest chair, Lord Roke sent for water and food, and he watched the man with curiosity, if not a little disdain. Xaphania examined him carefully; he was dirty, his hair disheveled, half naked and sweaty and bruised, his pants the only thing left of his clothes, and a boot, both absolutely wrecked. He breathed slowly, heavily, perhaps unaccustomed to the crispy air of the world they were in. His eyes darted between Lord Roke and her, impressed but not overly surprised, hardly concerned. His leopard sat by his feet, licking her paws, though her eyes shifted towards Xaphania every now and again, wary.

No one said a word. His food arrived and he drank and ate laboriously, as if he hadn’t in days, which was true. Xaphania sighed. He wasn’t even the best specimen of his kind, she knew; there were wiser men to be entrusted with the fate of the universes. It was too late now, though. Everything had been arranged for years and years, all were aligned to lead to the end of the Kingdom.

“I suppose you will have to do.” She said, loudly. She was testing him, she wanted to see what he would do.

Asriel looked up, lowering the piece of bread he had been meaning to bite. His eyes flickered: malice, amusement, vicious passion concealed in those grey eyes that looked at her intensely. His lips twitched slightly into a smirk, his bearded chin moving mathematically into position; a sassy response. He nodded, agreeing with her, then turned his face to his food once again. His daemon immediately addressed Lord Roke, asking for updates, information, size of their forces, their ultimate goal.

As the gallivespian spoke to Stelmaria, serious and precise, Asriel finished his food and turned to Xaphania again. His smirk was still there; he watched her with intense curiosity, and in the days to come, he would watch her with immense admiration and respect. She allowed herself to smile again, since that last time before the Authority exiled her.

There was hope once again.


End file.
